


All the King's Horses and All the King's Men

by OrtegaTrash (Malicei)



Series: Fallen Hero Fics [9]
Category: Fallen Hero Series - Malin Rydén, Fallen Hero: Rebirth (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Grieving, Loss, Major character death - Freeform, Sad, canon major character injury, ortega twins, twinfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 15:13:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19871698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malicei/pseuds/OrtegaTrash
Summary: The Ortega twins go skydiving for their 18th birthday. One of them has to relearn how to walk, the other never walks again.





	1. Skyfall

“We’re going to be proper adults soon,” Ricardo grins, giving Julia a playful punch to her side. “Ready for it?”

Julia rolls her eyes at her brother even as she sticks her tongue out. “Well _I_ know I am definitely completely ready for adulthood,” she tells him. “But I’m not sure about you, you still look like a bratty teenager to me.”

“You’re the baby of us two!”

“By a minute, idiot!” She makes a rude gesture at him. “At least shave those baby hairs if you don’t want to look like a stinky teenage troll,” she teases. “They look like you glued pubes to your upper lip!”

Ricardo’s face is predictably indignant. “What- They do _not_!” he protests, though he does rub his finger over it without thinking. “Look, give me a few years and I’ll have a magnificent moustache, just so you know, and then we’ll see who’s laughing.”

_“Uh huh.”_

They’re interrupted then by one of the instructors leaning over and pulling his headphones off to shout. “ALRIGHT, KIDDOS, ARE YOU READY TO JUMP?”

“We’re _adults_ now, not kids-”

“-We are, yeah!”

“THEN ON THE COUNT OF THREE,” he calls out. “ONE!”

Fear and excitement dance in their shared look.

“TWO!”

They reach out to take each other’s hands - because no matter what they do, they’re in this together. Going to drag each other down together.

Going to fall together.

“THREE!”

They squeeze each others’ hands.

“JUMP!”

_They fall._

—

There are terrified, matching looks of horror as they both simultaneously realise something’s gone wrong. That their parachutes are both tangled and not streaming out properly behind them like they should

and their screams of adrenaline filled delight and fear turn into screams of a knowing plummet to their own doom.


	2. Ricardo lives.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In one universe, Ricardo lives.

**Ricardo lives.**

He blacks out for minutes at a time from the pain, aware only of his own screaming and the way he can’t. feel. his. legs.

 _They always told us to look before we leap,_ he thinks, almost hysterical with the cruel joke the universe has played on them. _Or else we might fall and never get up again._

He thinks his throat might give out soon with the way he’s screaming himself hoarse. But the pain reminds him he’s alive.

How is it that only in his worst moments, only when he’s in danger of dying that he feels the most alive?

That’s one of the uncomfortable truths of being an adrenaline junkie, living for danger. People look at them and shake their heads, saying they’re going to get killed one day with one of their death-defying stunts.

But they’re young and fit and smart and they won’t slip up. That’s not a thing that happens to them. They won’t make mistakes.

~~Until they have. Until now.~~

There are people surrounding him yelling to each other not to move him from his position because he might have a broken back and there’s a sinking feeling in his stomach because he fears they might be right. They’re telling him not to turn his head because they don’t know if he’s gotten a neck injury as well, but he can see Julia’s hand over to his left side and he needs, needs to know-

_Why hasn’t she moved?_

_Why isn’t she screaming, too?_

“-Just wait a moment, they’re getting the stretcher for you.”

He can barely concentrate through the pain, but he grits his teeth and powers through. “Get- Julia…Julia in first. She looks like she’s worse off than me…”

The look on the paramedic’s face tells him everything he was afraid of.

Oh, _Dios._ “No…”

The paramedic’s hand is warm. Warm and so fragile and so alive as it squeezes his hand, and it makes it all the worse as he pushes it away to reach out for Julia’s.

“Julia? Julia, please…”

No, no, no.

Not _Julia._

They’re twins. They’re always supposed to get into trouble _together._ And they’re always supposed to get _out_ of trouble together. Disregarding the protests from the paramedic, he turns to look. He _needs_ to know.

(He’ll never forget.)

Ricardo never lets go of her hand, even as he throws up all over the paramedics

~~even as her hand grows icy cold~~

and he fights them off as they try to pull him away, all the way until he passes out again and he succumbs to the troubled rest of exhaustion and pain

~~and Julia is so peaceful in her final rest.~~

–

The wheelchair is a bitter reminder. He would despise being bound to it, except for the fact that he’s the one who got off easy. It seems like life has become nothing but therapy lately and he hates every single part of it. Physical therapy, grief and trauma counselling…he knows why they’re forcing him through it, but it all feels so empty.

Why was he the one who made it?

Why him?

Sometimes it feels like the universe is all just one cosmic joke. How one tiny thing could have ended up with Julia being the one in his position, how she’d still be here joking around with him if only…

If only, what?

They’d been less reckless? They’d checked the parachutes over again, realised they were faulty before it was too late?

He doesn’t want to think about any of it. About taking the company to court and the talks of settlement, like money would ever be able to fill the gaping hole in their lives. About how his parents are talking about mods for him and making him a pawn for the government, because now that he’s disabled he apparently can’t make any decisions over his own life apparently?

About the letters carved in stone in front of him, an empty grave next to it ready and waiting for him to fill it. As twins they had always spoken about being buried alongside each other in the sort of far away notion kids have of death as something for old people and unlucky people, not them.

They both have the same starting date, but only Julia’s has another date next to it.

Everyone just looks at him with the most pitying eyes and solemn words and everything about it just feels…empty.

_How could it have been us? We’re too young to die._

(The universe does not care.)

They’re _twins._ He’s not supposed to be alone.

He’s.

He’s _alone._


	3. Julia lives.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In another universe, Julia lives.

**Julia lives.**

Her soul feels like its being ripped from out via her throat, she screams and screams and screams and screams-

And it’s almost a mercy when she keeps blacking out. Because at least then she has a moment of relief from having to face the world. Having to face the growing fear as she realises she can’t feel her legs.

_We really fucked up this time, huh?_

She goes to turn to see Ricardo from where she see his hand over to her right, but then there’s people shouting at her not to move, not to turn her head, she might have a spinal or neck injury.

Julia goes to squeeze Ricardo’s hand

And

_And Ricardo doesn’t squeeze back._

“Ricardo?” she rasps out. “R-Ricardo?”

Her voice is barely a whisper over the din of the frantic paramedics surrounding her, but the one monitoring her heart rate glances over at her.

It hurts more than anything she’s ever had to do in her life, but she needs to know. “What’s happened to my brother?” she manages to gasp out. “What’s happened to…Ricardo?”

The look of pity he sends her is fleeting, but it’s enough to send the beep of her heart monitor through the roof.

_Oh, Dios._

“NO!” She screams, at the pain, at the world, at life. “No, no, no!”

And it feels like that’s all her life is reduced to, screaming, before there’s the tell-tale prick of a needle into her arm and

Everything

Goes

Black.

—

Her parents see Ricardo when they look at her. In the shape of her face, not quite the same, a whisper of something that will never live up to the real thing. In the way they hear her approach and automatically go to greet the empty space beside her as well…

It wasn’t meant to be like this. They’ve been together from the very beginning of their lives and they were supposed to be there to the very end as well.

Everything has become a blur. She can’t bring herself to do anything but sit and stare ahead at the wall when they carry her to the wheelchair, begging her to try, _please just come to dinner, Julia?_

_Why can’t they look at me?_

She doesn’t know her physical therapist’s name or the therapist’s for that matter either. They say she might have a chance at walking again if she works hard, but it’s not looking good. There’s been talks of her getting mods and she still can’t bring herself to really care.

She’ll never see him grow up alongside her, she will get grey hairs and Ricardo…Ricardo will remain forever caught in the precious memories of youth. Never have a chance to be Aunty Julia, teasing imaginary nieces and nephews at a family barbeque.

Why her?

Why was she the one who made it?

She’s heard her parents talking with lawyers about suing the company that made the parachutes, and everything about it tastes like ashes in the mouth. Talks of settlement. Astronomical figures that don’t look real and makes her want to punch somebody, because that was her *brother* and how can you ever put a price on his worth?

How could they ever even begin to think they could replace Ricardo?

But they say it’s just the trauma. Look at her with pitying eyes and treat her like she can’t do anything by herself because apparently disability means you’re as helpless as a baby.

She’d rant about it to someone, but the only person she wants to rant to is now laying under a pretty little gravestone with his name solemnly engraved on it.

And it’s funny, really, how something as small as the choice of font is what makes it really hit home for her.

It’s so traditional. So serious.

So…final.

(She has never felt so alone.)


End file.
